


Middle of the Night Confession

by bovaria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bovaria/pseuds/bovaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up the reader to confess something to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Middle of the Night Confession

You groaned out your discontent, your phone vibrating on the nightstand and waking you up from the first deep slumber you had had in more than a week. Your body protested, limbs stiff as they reached for the device and you angrily pressed the ‘answer’ button, not bothering to see the caller I.D.

“Can I come in to your room? Are you asleep?” a gruff voice inquired.

“Dean, it’s,” you groaned, eyes squinting as you brought your phone in front of your face to look at the time. “Dean, for heaven’s sake, it’s freaking three in the morning.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” the heel of your hand rubbed on your eye.

“No,” his tone was firm, unwavering. You figured that if you were ever going to get some sleep, you were going to have to let him in.

“Damn it, Dean, you better make me breakfast tomorrow,” you mumbled, kicking the sheets off yourself in an angry huff and stomping to the entrance of your room.

“Does breakfast in bed sound appetizing?” he grinned widely as you opened the door.

“Nope,” you shot him a mocking smile. “But a punch to your face for waking me up sounds mighty tempting right now.”

“Well, too bad,” he shrugged. “I need you awake for what I’m about to tell you,” he sauntered in, ignoring the despairing groan that left your lips and grabbed your desk chair. He swiveled it around and placed it next to the bed. “Sit,” he pointed at it. You were drawn to the thought of shooting a sarcastic remark at him, but thought better of it. The faster you heard him talk, the sooner he’d leave and you would actually get to go back to sleep.

“Okay,” you drawled out the word, ending it in a groan as you stretched your limbs, urging yourself to wake up. Dean was probably going to drag this out until you were fully conscious and listening to every word he said.

“Are you awake now?” the bed dipped as he laid across it, head comfortably landing on your pillow.

“Ugh, I hate you,” you scowled, arms crossing over your chest.

“Pecan pie is the best pie,” he muttered, testing you.

“Apple pie,” you spat back.

“Okay, you’re awake,” he nodded, satisfied in your state of consciousness.

“Yes, Dean, I’m awake,” you rubbed your nose, a habit of yours whenever you were tired, keeping your eyes opened and trained on Dean. Seeing him lie on your bed was almost unreal. You had been fantasizing about the older Winchester for months now, but were never going to let him know. You resigned yourself to flirting back whenever he made moves on you, not quite making it obvious that you had feelings for him. Having him lie on your bed… it was quite unbelievable.

“I’m just gonna come out and say it,” he raised his arms, hands straight as he glanced at you before training his eyes on the ceiling once again. “Because today was a crazy day and that monster almost had you, and I couldn’t have lived with myself if you hadn’t known.”

“I had the monster covered,” you chuckled, shaking your head and remembering how paranoid Dean had gotten when he had noticed the claw marks on your thigh. They hadn’t been deep and Sam had them bandaged up in no time. The older man had just been too paranoid, like always.

“That’s not the point,” he groaned. “Okay, promise you won’t interrupt me after saying that you promise,” he shot you a piercing look.

“I promise,” you rolled your eyes, legs raising to rest your hands underneath your thighs. You were starting to grow impatient, curious as to what Dean would tell you. What could be so important to him that he had to wake you up in the middle of the night?

“Okay,” he nodded slowly. “And you vow to always be friends, no matter what? It doesn’t matter if you don’t agree with me, it doesn’t matter if you want to throw something sharp at me or shoot me; we will always be friends?”

“Yes,” you moaned, throwing your head back in frustration. “Just get to the point, Dean, I’m so fucking sleepy. Please.”

“I’m in love with you,” Dean let the words out without further preamble.

“Dean, seriously,” you scoffed, threading fingers through your hair and wishing it were Dean’s. You wanted to strangle him. “Seriously, you woke me up to this? You’re so ridiculous.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up and turning so that his knees hit yours and he was facing you.

“Can’t you play this little prank tomorrow?” you grumbled.

“Whoa, hey, not a prank,” he raised his hands defensively before snorting. “You think this is a prank? I’m not playing around. I love you, Y/N, seriously.”

“It’s too late to be saying this stuff,” you stomped your foot on the ground. “You’re just shaken up about this afternoon. Look, the monster only scratched the surface,” you tore at the bandage, slightly cringing, but wanting to let Dean see that they weren’t deep enough to be worrying. “I’m not dying, I can take care of myself. You two trained me well.”

“No, you don’t get it,” his hands balled up into fists in frustration before unfurling and having his fingers thread through his short locks. “This isn’t some emotion over yesterday. This has been going on since I first laid eyes on you. You don’t understand. Everything about you drives me crazy. You don’t notice, but just—”

“Whoa, okay,” you laughed dryly. “Dean, are you drunk?”

“No, why would I be?” he shot you a hurt look.

“Because you don’t say shit like this,” you found that your voice was rising. “You never say ‘I love you’ to anyone, especially not me. I’m not your family. I’m just a girl you picked up on the side of the road after a hunt.”

“You are more than that, Y/N,” his hand landed on your knee and you wanted to recoil from his touch. How could he say something like this? Did he know you were absolutely head over heels in love with him? Was this some cruel way of his to deter you from your feelings?

“Stop, Dean,” you implored.

“You are everything to me,” he squeezed where his hand rested on your leg. “You’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. And the way you bite your thumbnail when you’re deep in thought and trying to figure out a case. Or how you have absolutely no regard for your safety when someone is in danger. You just dive into it until you have saved that person, driving me crazy in the process.”

“Dean,” you stared at him, wide eyed as he continued his rant.

“You had me wrapped around your finger the moment you climbed into Baby’s backseat,” he cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I have been yours since then.”

“What about all those girls?” you pulled away, standing up and demanding answers. If he was truly in love with you, then he had some things to answer to.

“They don’t matter,” he waved the subject away.

“Yes, they do,” you held out your hand in question. “If you were so into me, why have you slept with more than a dozen girls since we met, Dean? We barely met six months ago!”

“Because I was scared, okay?” he shot up from the bed, arms outstretched. “I found myself liking you more every day and I was shitting myself with how my heart seemed to want to jump out of my ribcage every time I laid eyes on you. Do you understand how hard it was for me to come to terms with the fact that I am in _love_ with you?”

“And you think it’s been hard for me to keep my mouth shut about my feelings for you?” you laid a hand on your chest defensively. “Especially when you brought girl after girl back to the motel with you? Do you have any freaking idea how much I had to mutter to myself that they were just passing by, that they wouldn’t get to see you the next day, but I would?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he groaned. “But you have to understand that it was just this really fucked up defense mechanism I had going on. Sam had to knock some sense into me. But I finally saw it, and I couldn’t have felt happier. You make me so happy, Y/N.”

“What happens if I say yes, Dean?” you suddenly questioned. “What happens then? Do we sleep together and then you decide that you don’t want to love me anymore?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed, wincing at your words.

“If you do decide to ask me out, it’ll be on my terms,” you said firmly.

“Yeah, I can work with that,” he nodded.

“Okay, well,” you cleared your throat. “We can discuss this tomorrow morning, I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, um, o-okay,” at a loss with what to say next, Dean began to walk out of your room as you collapsed on your bed. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he looked back at you.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you smiled briefly before the door closed behind him.

You heard his steps retreat and laid on your back, eyes trained on the white ceiling of your room. Letting out a deep sigh, your fingers curled around fistfuls of blankets in frustration. You had reacted to Dean’s confession in a way you had never thought of. Usually, when you fantasized about him telling you that he was in love with you, it all ended with his lips pressed to yours and his arms around your waist. But this wasn’t fantasy, this was reality with a Dean that tended to break girls’ hearts left and right. The Dean that had just confessed to you, well, he hated commitment, avoided it at all costs. He had even ranted about it once to you.

How could you ever let him think that you were basically dying to have him as your one and only? That your heart fluttered whenever he smiled at you? Or that when he laughed at one of your jokes, butterflies made their home in your tummy? Whenever a monster got too close to him, you’d see red and that was the reason you had hurt yourself this afternoon. The creature had been deadset on hurting Dean and you had attacked it, having its claws dig into your skin rather than seeing Dean fighting it.

Then again, you also knew for a fact that when Dean declared his love for someone, it was until the very last breath left his body. Dean committed to his loved ones through thick and thin. _But that was not romantic affection_ , your mind helpfully provided. You groaned and briefly flailed on the bed, limbs flopping around in sheer frustration.

Suddenly, it was as if a light bulb went off in your head and you sat up, swiveling on your butt and clambering out of bed. Your socks slid across the tiles as you rushed out of your room and skidded to a stop right in front of Dean’s. You raised your arm to knock, but the door was opened and Dean stood before you, eyes wide and chest heaving in the same rhythm as yours.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you warned, your index finger millimeters from Dean’s nose.

“Um, what?” he tilted his eyes, eyes crossing briefly before refocusing on your own.

“What I’m about to do,” you swallowed thickly, toeing the floor nervously. “It doesn’t mean anything. Don’t take it as a yes. Don’t take it as a no. It’s just, I want to see something, okay?”

“Okay,” he drawled out the word and you placed the flat of your hand on his chest, pushing him backwards until the both of you were inside his room. The last thing you wanted was Sam peeking, even if it was in the middle of the night. Better safe than sorry. You took a deep breath before gliding your hand upwards, across his shoulder and having your fingers grip the back of Dean’s neck. You crept closer to him, body shyly pressing to his, making up for the height difference between the two of you.

Realizing what you were about to do, Dean mustered all of his energy in not smiling widely, hands awkwardly lax and attempting to not rest on your hips, where they were itching to be. Dean cleared his throat, bringing his head downwards. You weren’t as quick as he was, thinking over what you were about to do. You snapped your head up. Your forehead scraped against Dean’s nose and to prevent further clashes, you snapped your head down. Yet, you were too close to him and you heard the sound before you felt the sting. Dean groaned painfully, hand rising to cup his nose as you stepped back, palm pressing to your forehead.

“Dean, oh, my God, I’m sorry,” you winced, moving closer to him.

“It’s okay,” he laughed, only to cringe and pull his hand away from his face. His fingers were bloody and you felt the guilt wash over you.

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself muttering, before dashing out of his room.

“No, Y/N,” Dean reached out for you, wanting to chase you down. However, the hit had been quite strong and dizziness made his vision blurry, prompting him to collapse on his bed.

A minute later, the older Winchester was trying to rein in his nausea and get on his feet. He needed to see if you were alright. He cursed his eagerness for having made a disaster of it all.  Suddenly, his ears picked up quick footsteps getting closer and he froze in the middle of the room as you appeared in the doorway. You had gone into the kitchen, looking for the ice packs you had bought last week after Sam had dislocated his shoulder in a hunt. You smiled sheepishly at Dean as you held out the ice.

“Do you mind sitting down?” you motioned towards the bed.

“Yeah, sure, sweetheart,” he stupidly grinned before taking a seat on the foot of the mattress, hissing as he brought his hand away from his nose. You winced and wiped at the blood with a damp towel before tenderly placing the pack on Dean’s face.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you apologized once again, standing between his opened legs. One of your hands was occupied by holding up the cold parcel to his nose, while the other one was twirling your hair nervously.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he chuckled.

“I’m not,” you retorted.

“You are,” he grabbed your hand, stopping your fingers from further coiling your locks. “You always do this when you are.”

“Oh,” you smartly responded, avoiding his eyes and sniffling your nose awkwardly.

“I know you more than you might think, Y/N,” he slowly let his hand descend until it rested on your hip, fingers stretching on the expanse of your pelvis. “It’s quite adorable to see you nervous, I’m proud of myself for that one. I never thought I did.”

“Come on, you must have known I have liked you from the get-go,” the words came out without you filtering them.

“So, you do like me?” he smirked, voice starting to sound nasal as you pressed the ice pack more onto his nose.

“I do like you, Donald Duck,” you snorted.

“Awesome,” he grinned, pleased with himself.

“Okay, let me see if it’s not bad enough that we have to go to the hospital?” you uncovered his nose and realized that the bleeding has ceased. His nose didn’t seem out of place and you sighed in relief.

“How’s it looking?” Dean inquired.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you pulled him to stand with you and began to direct him to the side of the bed, where he could lie down, his head on top of three pillows that you were about to arrange. “You just have to sleep with your head slightly elevated and get plenty of bed rest. No hunt for the next two weeks or so.”

“Oh, come on,” he stomped his foot.

“Shut up, Dean,” you brought his hand to hold the pack to his face as you stacked three of his pillows on top of each other and patted the center. “Lie down and go to sleep.”

“Can you stay?”

“No,” you laughed, helping Dean get comfortable as you placed the blanket on him. “There has been enough disaster tonight. I don’t think it’s wise for me to sleep in the same bed.”

“Y/N, please? I’m already hurting, I need your company.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you rolled your eyes and stepped back.

“Fine, goodnight,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. You scoffed, a small smile upturning the corners of your lips, and left Dean’s bedroom. It took you more than an hour to fall asleep.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Dean shook your shoulder as you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. It felt like you had barely gone to sleep five minutes ago.

“Whoa, hey, broken nose here,” he shoved the pillow away and threw it to the foot of the bed, where you couldn’t reach it.

“Dean, let me sleep,” you cried, flailing your arms in a tiny tantrum.

“It’s already nine in the morning, I promised you breakfast in bed, remember?”

“What?” your eyes fluttered opened, landing on a wide-grin Dean holding up a tray with enthusiasm.

“Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, OJ, the whole enchilada,” he chuckled, urging you to sit up. You obeyed without a second thought, covering your mouth to yawn as he placed the platter on your lap, taking a seat right next to your legs.

“You’re supposed to be getting bed rest,” you scowled at him, eyes zeroing in on his purpling nose.

“When you’re done eating this, I’ll lay down with you, I promise,” he winked flirtatiously.

“Dean,” you wrinkled your nose.

“Come on, Y/N, let me at least try,” he whined.

“Feed me, then,” you suddenly retorted.

“Really?” a smile erupted on his lips and you chuckled, nodding your head. As he was grabbing a forkful of eggs, you opened your mouth and let your eyes wander around the room. Locking gazes with Dean would be too much and you knew he could make you come undone with one of his looks. He tapped your chin in warning before you felt the hot foot on your tongue. You closed your lips on the fork and he slowly slid the utensil out. “It’s not too hot, right?” his voice was small as he asked.

“It’s perfect,” your hand covered your chewing mouth as you crinkled your eyes at him, displaying your gratitude. “Did you make the pancakes yourself?” you inquired after swallowing the bite of eggs. “Or did Aunt Jemima help you out?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he mocked as you giggled. “Actually no, made them myself.”

“Can’t say I’m not impressed, Winchester,” you raised your eyebrows.

“Thank you, thank you,” he bowed his head as you both shared smiles.

Twenty minutes later and Dean was placing the empty plate on your night table. Despite you wanting to take the dirty dishes back to the kitchen, he would have none of that and refused to let you out of the bed. “You are morally obligated, as the one who bruised my nose and caused me pain, to be my pillow.”

“Dean, you’re kidding,” you snorted.

“Nope,” as you were rolling your eyes, he took advantage of you being distracted and laid down on the bed, body horizontal as his head landed on your lap. Your eyebrows shot up in question as you looked down and he offered you an innocent smile, hands innocently folding over his chest. “Dean,” you began to drawl out.

“My nose hurts,” he pouted, lightly tapping it.

“Fine, but only for a few minutes,” you warned.

“Few minutes, okay,” he moved his body from side to side for a few seconds, getting comfortable and sighed deeply, his eyes closing. A blissful smile made its way to his mouth and you felt your heart skip a beat.

You had never seen this sweet, playful side to Dean. Sure, you had been the subject of his flirtations more than once, but this was different; this was a vulnerable Dean, one who wanted to be held and loved by the woman he _loved_.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” you swallowed thickly. You were reluctant to ask, but you had to know.

“Every word,” his eyelids parted and his green emeralds bored into yours.

“Oh,” you smartly contributed.

“Y/N,” he suddenly sat up, moving to sit cross-legged right next to you, close enough for him to reach out and cup your face. “I am not bluffing when I say that I’m in love with you. You have become my priority and I don’t see myself changing my mind anytime soon,” his eyes desperately sought yours out, trying to find an inkling of the emotion currently constricting his chest. “Please, let me love you and show you just how much you mean to me.”

“Okay,” you whispered after a few seconds. His eyes widened and he asked you to repeat your answer. “Okay,” you chuckled, hand squeezing his wrist as he continued to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheek.

He leaned forward and you followed his lead, carefully tilting your head until his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss.

 


End file.
